


Crush

by cresswells



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresswells/pseuds/cresswells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“It’s really amazing, isn’t it?  Someone can trigger your sexual identity crisis and not have a clue they’re doing it. Honestly, he probably still thinks of me as his cousin’s weird twelve-year-old stepson.”</i>
</p><p>During a vacation at Bram’s father’s and stepmother’s house, Simon meets Bram's first crush, 'Mr. Sexual Awakening'. He’s not exactly what Simon’s expecting.</p><p>Written for creeksecrets’ Golden Birthday Contest.  Originally posted on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

I’m not sure how I got myself into this situation. One minute, everything was normal. The next, I was surrounded on all sides by a sea of cooing middle-aged women.

“HELP ME,” I mouth to my boyfriend. Bram just grins. Traitor.

Bram’s baby sister, Dara Greenfeld, gurgles and sucks a wet patch into the shoulder of my shirt.  I readjust her and the women surrounding us all  _awwwww_  in harmony as she gives them a totally blank, wide-eyed stare.

The August heat is stifling. We’ve been here in Savannah for five days already; Bram and I drove up last week to visit his dad and stepmom and Little Foe – I mean, _Dara_ , and we’ll be driving back to Atlanta in a few days, just in time for the start of our senior year.  Bram’s dad is an English teacher, so he was pretty adamant about that – he didn’t want Bram taking any time off school to visit him.  But today’s his dad’s birthday, and Bram wanted to spend some time with his new sister.  At seven weeks old, Dara (who is no longer a foetus, but still quite little) is the star of the party.  The gaggle of women coo in unison once more as Dara blinks sleepily and rests her head against my chin.

It’s ridiculous. I mean, she’s not even  _doing_   _anything_.

Bram really wasn’t kidding when he said his dad and stepmom liked family gatherings.  Forty-six isn’t really a milestone birthday, but it looks as though Bram’s entire extended family have shown up to celebrate. If I’m being honest, I’m more than a little nervous about being introduced to this many family members all at once.

Not that anyone’s paid much attention to me.  I guess most of Bram’s family must have already recognised me from Facebook, because none of them seemed particularly surprised when Bram introduced me. Bram’s aunts rushed over to us as soon as they walked through the door, but they barely spared  _me_  more than a friendly greeting before they all started cooing over how big Dara’s gotten.  Apparently new babies are a bigger deal than new boyfriends.

Bram brushes a curl out of Dara’s face and she looks up at him.  _Cue cooing_.  He catches my eye and grins again at my barely-suppressed eye-roll.

I like to think I know Bram pretty well now, but being here, with his family, I’m learning new things about him every single day. Little things, like how he and his stepmom can talk for hours about obscure superhero movies and graphic novels I’ve never heard of. Like the fact that he gets his soft eyes from his mom and his big ears from his dad.  Like the way he looks early in the morning, sleepily hunched over a bowl of cereal, in rumpled pyjamas, with his baby sister perched on his knee.

Every little thing makes me fall even more in love with him.

This morning when I came downstairs for breakfast, Bram was already dressed.  He and Mrs. Greenfeld – or Laurel, as she insisted on being called – were outside, setting up tables and chairs for the party.  As I helped myself to a bowl of cereal Bram’s dad walked into the kitchen with baby Dara tucked into his shoulder, sleeping soundly.

“I’m not allowed to help,” Bram’s dad informed me, nodding towards the doors leading out to the garden.

“Well, it’s your day,” I said.

He laughed.  “That’s not why.  They just don’t want me making a mess of things.”

I grinned. Bram’s dad is a lot like him – they’re both quiet, bookish types – except Bram’s a soccer star and his dad’s a total klutz.

I’d been worried before we arrived that things might be kind of weird this week, especially since I’d only met Bram’s dad once before, when he came to Shady Creek to pick Bram up for Dara’s naming ceremony at the synagogue back in June.  But Bram’s dad and stepmom are actually pretty awesome. Yeah, Bram’s dad is a little awkward around me, but from what I’ve heard from Bram, he’s like that around everyone.

Dara made a hiccupping noise, and an orange stain appeared on Bram’s dad’s collar. Gross.

Bram’s dad groaned. “Third shirt this week,” he said, but he was smiling a little.  He reached across the kitchen island to grab a napkin, and wiped the mess away from Dara’s face.  Then, when he seemed satisfied that she wasn’t going to puke again, he held her out to me.  “Simon, do you mind taking her for a while?”

“Sure,” I said. I figured that since I didn’t really know the party plans, holding the baby while everyone else was busy was the best way to help out.  I just hoped she wouldn’t puke all over me next.

Anyway, that’s how I ended up stuck with the baby when, two hours later, the hordes of family members descended upon us.

Eventually Bram takes pity on me and steers me away from his aunts, towards a table far enough away from the buffet and makeshift dancefloor that we’re not surrounded by nosy relatives. Dara stirs a little as I sit down, so I settle her on my other shoulder and hold the back of her head.

“You want me to take her?” Bram asks.  He’s smiling. I guess it’s because he likes seeing me bonding with his baby sister. It’s weird – I’m  _so_  not one of those people who loves kids. Most kids annoy me at least eighty percent of the time. But Dara’s special. I don’t know, maybe it’s just because she’s Bram’s sister, but even when she’s howling at the top of her lungs, she seems cute. Bram’s stepmom’s white, but Dara still looks a lot like her half-brother.  As much as a baby can look like anyone, anyway.  She’s got these big brown eyes and soft, springy curls just like Bram’s.

“It’s okay,” I say, because she’s settled now and it’s probably best not to move her.

Bram grins, knowingly.

Okay, okay. Maybe I do like kids just a little bit. Shut up.

“Uh oh,” Bram mutters suddenly. He’s turned away from me, staring at something in the crowd. Whatever it is, he looks uncomfortable.

“What is it?”

“Okay.” Bram takes a deep breath, apparently steeling himself for something.  “The man chatting to my dad by the buffet table? That’s the guy I told you about in our emails. You know. My stepmom’s cousin.”

It takes me a while to remember our conversation from last year.  And then it clicks, and I’m instantly craning my head around to get a glimpse of the buffet table.

“Don’t look!” Bram says quickly.

“How am I supposed to know which one he is if I don’t look?”

Bram grimaces, staring down at his hands, which are nervously twisting a napkin in his lap. “I should’ve known he’d be here.”

While Bram’s eyes are down, I sneak another glance over to the buffet table. And… yeah, okay, I can totally see why twelve-year-old Bram had the hots for this guy.  The family resemblance to Bram’s stepmother is striking. He’s tall and fair-skinned with perfectly tousled blond hair like hers, and even from this distance his cheekbones look sharp enough to cut glass. He laughs at something Bram’s dad says, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth.

Crap.

Look, here’s the thing: I don’t really consider myself a jealous person.  And since all the coming out drama I went through last winter, I feel like there’s not much else that can scare me.  But looking at this guy, the first guy my boyfriend ever liked, I’m suddenly irrationally terrified that Bram will see how starkly inadequate I am in comparison.

I know.   _I know_. It’s such a stupid, clichéd thing to think, but knowing that doesn’t keep me from thinking it.

“He’s coming over here,” Bram moans.

“No freaking way.” But he is.  Damn it, this baby is like a freaking homing device.

Bram’s eyes dart back and forth, like he can’t decide whether to make eye contact with the man approaching our table or to pretend he hasn’t seen him yet. It’s totally adorable how obvious he’s being, but the irrational fear flares up even more, seeing him get this flustered over some other guy.

“Hey!” Mr. Sexual Awakening calls out when he reaches us.  “Bram! Good to see you!”

“Oh!” Bram says loudly. Too loudly.  “Hi. Hello. Good to see you, too.”

Bram shuffles his chair closer to mine to make room at our table, even though we’re the only ones sitting here and there’s already plenty of space.  The man sits down at our table and glances over at me and Dara.

“I’m Aaron,” Mr. Sexual Awakening says to me beaming.  “Laurel’s cousin.”

“Oh, um, this is Simon,” Bram says, before Aaron can ask. He’s speaking very quickly, his voice a little higher than usual.  “My boyfriend, Simon.”

If Mr. Sexual Awakening is surprised, he’s polite enough not to show it. Instead, he grins and ruffles Bram’s hair affectionately.

“I can’t believe you’re old enough to be dating now,” he says teasingly, as Bram mumbles something unintelligible and stares down at the ground like he’s wishing it would open up and swallow him whole.

I reach out and squeeze his hand. He squeezes back and shoots me a grateful smile.

“I guess this little one will be bringing boys back home in seventeen years’ time, too,” he continues, beaming down at Dara.

“Or girls,” Bram says, good-naturedly.  It’s an automatic response, and as soon as he’s said it, Bram seems to remember who he’s talking to.  His ears redden.

“Oh. Right, of course.” There’s an uncomfortable pause, like Aaron can’t figure out if he should apologise for putting his foot in his mouth, or deflect.  “So… uh –”

Whatever he’s going to say next is drowned out by Dara, who apparently dislikes awkward situations as much as I do, and starts wailing in protest. Loudly.

“Oh.” Bram looks alarmed. “Uh – Dad? Laurel?”

Bram’s stepmother appears at my side instantly.

“Hey guys,” she says, somehow managing to keep her perfect hostess smile in place even as Dara’s screams threaten to make my eardrums burst, “do you want me to take her off your hands?”

I pass Dara over, grimacing as she reaches a volume you’d never guess such a tiny thing was capable of. Laurel holds her carefully and makes a few soothing noises and within seconds, Dara’s giggling happily in her mother’s arms as Laurel flits away again to greet another guest.

Seriously. Bram’s stepmom is like, an actual real-life superhero.

Seizing the opportunity for a conversation change, Mr. Sexual Awakening asks Bram about the latest soccer season.

“Oh, yeah, we’ve been doing pretty well,” Bram says.

“Pretty well is an understatement,” I chime in, because Bram’s being way too modest. I know practically nothing about soccer, but the team’s had a series of really incredible wins in the last couple of months.

“Are you on the team too, Simon?” Mr. Sexual Awakening asks.

I laugh.  I mean.  Seriously. Nobody with legs as skinny as mine could be mistaken for an athlete.  “Nah, that’s his thing,” I say.

“Simon’s in the theatre group,” Bram says proudly.  “He’s really good.”

I grin and squeeze his hand again.  In the last play we performed I managed to snag a part which came with a handful of lines, but from the way Bram still talks about it, you’d think I was the lead.

Aaron’s eyes light up. “Oh, awesome,” he says, “I was a theatre geek in high school, too!”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah!  Never acted, though. I was more into costumes and set design.  Still am. Here, check this out.”  He pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket and shows it to me.  His background image is a photo of a smiling baby wearing the most hideous lime green onesie I’ve ever seen.  On it’s head is an obviously homemade sparkly green headband with an eyeball springing up from the centre.

“Oh,” I say. “Um.  Cool?”

He beams.  “Yeah. That was taken the day after NASA announced they’d found water on Mars.”

I glance at Bram. He’s staring at his hands with a small smile on his lips, as if he’s trying not to laugh.  I nudge him, but he’s apparently determined not to meet my eyes.

Aaron takes the phone back, and flicks through some more pictures until he’s found another one. This time, the baby is dressed in an ugly overlarge sweater patterned with chequered brown squares.  On it’s head is what looks like a court barrister’s wig with a cherry on top.

“Oh,” I say again, because I can think of literally nothing else to say.  I offer the phone to Bram, who looks at the photo with a bemused expression.  “Did you visit a courthouse?” he asks hopefully.

“No,” Aaron says in a tone that suggests Bram is missing the obvious, “that was Susie’s outfit for National Waffle Day.”

There’s a long silence.

“Oh, hey, I love this song,” Aaron says, oblivious to the weirdness he’s created.  He nods his head along in time to the beat for a few bars, then stands. “I’m going to go see if Karen wants to dance.  See you later, Bram.  Nice meeting you, Simon.”

With that, he’s off. I watch, dumbstruck, as he strolls over to a pretty woman with a baby a few months older than Dara resting on her knee.  I notice with some relief that baby Susie isn’t wearing anything out of the ordinary. Maybe his wife dressed her today.

“I can’t believe this,” I say after another long moment of silence.  “ _That’s_  the guy you liked when you were twelve?  He’s so… so…”

“Yeah.” Bram brushes his hands nervously through his curls and laughs softly to himself.  “He seemed a lot cooler when I was twelve.”

And yeah, okay. I can kind of understand that. We were all embarrassing and clueless at that age. But still.  “I just can’t believe you liked  _him_ , of all–”

“ _Shhh_ ,” Bram half-whispers, “he’ll hear you.”

“I really doubt that.” Mr. Sexual Awakening’s wife is still sitting close by, but the man himself is a bit preoccupied. He’s moved on to the patio-slash-dancefloor, where he’s now apparently attempting to dance the Macarena to a Taylor Swift song with not one but  _two_  of Bram’s many stepcousins perched on his shoulders.

It’s hard to remember why less than five minutes ago I was intimidated by this overgrown child.

When I turn away, I see Bram watching me closely.  “You okay?” he asks.

I shrug. “Seeing you get so worked up over another guy… I don’t know, it just kind of bothered me.”

Bram’s brow wrinkles in a rare moment of confusion.  “You were jealous?”

“Kind of.”  It seems really stupid now, saying it out loud, but Bram and I never keep anything from each other.

Bram reaches out to take my hand again, rubbing his thumb over my palm.  “You know that there’s  _nothing_ to be jealous of, right? It was just a stupid middle school crush. I just get embarrassed and weird around him sometimes because I remember how embarrassed and weird I used to be around him  _all_  the time, and it makes me nervous.”

“Yeah, I know.”  I look over at Aaron again.  He’s still dancing.  One of the stepcousins has fallen off his shoulders, but she doesn’t seem bothered.  She sits on the floor in front of him, gazing up adoringly.  I can practically hear the wedding bells going off in her head.  And yeah, okay, I guess I can see why kids love this guy.  When I was a kid I probably would have thought he was pretty amazing, too.

“Did you see those costumes though?”  I shake my head, disbelievingly.  “He’s such a dork.”

Bram laughs at me. “You’re one to talk.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gives me a  _look_.  It’s a very specific look, one he picked up from Nick, Abby and Leah sometime in the last few months.  It means,  _Simon, you’re being obtuse. Again_.

“Seriously, what?”  I pull my hand from his and cross my arms over my chest.  “I’m nothing like that guy, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Bram shakes his head. “You’re a theatre geek,” he says. “You’re blond.  You not-so-secretly love Taylor Swift.  You brought me chocolate-covered pretzels for the three-month anniversary of our first kiss because it coincided with National Pretzel Day–”

“I did that to be ironic,” I protest.

“Sure you did.” Bram shuffles closer to me, wrapping an arm around my waist.  “Look, I love all those things about you.  All I’m saying is that you’re not so different from him, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.”

I let my boyfriend pull me in to his side without complaint, and we both watch as Mr. Sexual Awakening finally tires himself out and slumps into a nearby chair.  After a while, the elderly woman sitting next to him hands him a tablet, obviously asking for his help in operating it, and he takes out a pair of reading glasses. Glasses which look pretty similar to my own.

And all of a sudden something hits me.  Something I can’t believe I didn’t figure out sooner.  I burst out laughing.

“What?” Bram asks, bewildered.

“All those similarities you just pointed out,” I say, grinning so wide it’s a miracle my face can contain it, “they _do_  mean something.” I poke him gently in the side.  “They mean you have a freaking  _type_.”

Bram’s ears turn an adorable shade of red.

“I do not,” he says weakly.

“It’s cute,” I clarify. Really, really cute.  It’s actually kind of perfect.  How can I feel weird or jealous about Bram’s middle school crush on this gigantic nerd when it just reminds me of how strongly he feels about me now?

I lean forward to kiss him on the cheek, but he’s already turning his head and our lips meet instead. And, oh, okay. This is much better.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” he asks when I pull away, mindful of the fact that his entire family is here.  He’s still so close, looking at me with heavily-lidded eyes and a quiet smile.  I love that smile.  It’s the one he gives me whenever we share an inside joke.

“Never.”

His arm tightens around my waist, and we watch as Mr. Sexual Awakening takes a goofy selfie with the elderly woman on his table using the tablet he’s evidently fixed.

I’m pretty sure I don’t stop grinning for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Simon and Bram’s three-month anniversary really does fall on National Pretzel Day. I thought this was Very Important Information everyone should know.


End file.
